One Fell Swoop
by quickwitfic
Summary: When a woman's body is found on a stairwell landing with a broken neck, Castle and Beckett must find out who killed her, if, in fact, anyone even did. Case-Fic set in the not so distant future that diverges from the specifics of canon after 6x12.
1. Chapter 1: The Body

**A.N & Disclaimer: **A personal challenge to pull-off a case fic. This is set a few months after Deep Cover (though that episode has no bearing on this story) and diverges from canon at that point, but that's only because they keep messing up my wedding plans. isn't mine and we should all be grateful for that. I'd get too distracted by the pretties and it would pretty much just deteriorate into porn.

* * *

**One Fell Swoop**

_Any truth is better than indefinite doubt._  
- Arthur Conan Doyle  
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

* * *

**Teaser**

_This heat has to break soon,_ she thought as she entered the lobby of her apartment building. The temperature wasn't that high, but it was thick and muggy, not at all the kind of dry hot air she was used to.

She hated New York in summer. She hated New York, period.

She hated the dull greys of the surrounding city and the constant, endless noise. She hated the people, so many fucking people, who didn't give a damn about anyone but themselves.

She hated her apartment and her job and her relationship and her misbehaving son.

No. No, that wasn't fair. She hated her life, but it wouldn't do any good to take it out on the people around her, the people that loved her. The people she loved.

Mostly, she hated _him._

She fantasized about killing him. Something personal, she'd decided in her darker moments. Close up, so she could watch the life drain out of his eyes. Something painful. He deserved to suffer.

She hated herself, too. After all, she wasn't completely without blame, was she?

God, she was disgusted with herself. So weak, so spineless. She was fucking pathetic.

All she'd made it through in her life (the abuse at her father's hands; the addiction she'd beaten; the upturning of her entire existence) and she'd still ended up this poor excuse for a woman.

The elevator was out and she wasn't as surprised as she should be, considering that it had never failed once since she'd moved in. Of course though, today, when all she wanted was to get home as quickly as possible and scrub away a layer of skin in an ice cold shower, it was down.

She sighed and opened the door to the stairway and looked up. Five floors was a long way when you barely had the energy to stay on your feet.

With the sigh of a woman resigned to a very shitty day - a shitty life, really - she trudged upwards, taking it one step at a time.

Maybe she had depression? Maybe her incapability to tear her mind from the awful things, her inability to focus on what was good, was a disorder or something.

Maybe the lack of energy, how hard it was just to get out of bed every morning to face another pointless day, was a symptom.

She thought about seeing a doctor, but dismissed it quickly. She couldn't do that. They'd want her to see a therapist or someone and not only could she not afford it, but they'd ask questions. Probing, leading questions to try and get at the cause of her melancholy. And she couldn't answer any of those questions.

She wanted to. God, how she wanted to talk to someone, to let it all burst out and spill forth. But she couldn't and every day it ate at her a little more. And at the people around her.

Her boyfriend was waning and she didn't blame him. She kept him at a distance, too far for them to truly call their relationship intimate. He tried so hard, and she was such a fucking bitch all the time. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to spill her secrets in the safety of his strong arms and have him whisper that everything would be okay.

Her son was affected, too. He was drifting, aimless in life. She knew he was into drugs and the school had called her at least half a dozen times during the last semester alone to let her know he was skipping. The attitude, the grungy clothes, the loud music, and the awful language were all pointing towards a spiral she didn't know how to stop.

She wondered where her little boy went. That tiny little creature that always, _always_ had a smile for her. That kid that would sink into her arms and hug her as if she was the most important person in his world.

She missed him.

She missed herself.

What she wouldn't do to reclaim her life. If only she had the energy.

One flight to go.

Close to home. Close to a shower and crawling up in her bed to sob the day away and then clean herself up before the men in her life got home and asked what was wrong.

Three steps until she reached her landing and the door to her floor slammed shut behind someone. She moved to one side to let them pass, but they simply stood above her.

She blinked and looked up, surprise coloring her features.

She was even more surprised not three minutes later when she was shoved in the chest hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. The surprise turned to panicked terror when she lost her balance and started to tumble backwards.

A sharp jolt of pain to her skull and then she stopped being surprised, or panicked, or terrified.

She stopped hating her life.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Body**

The study material wasn't holding her attention anymore, but, valiantly, she kept reading, doing her best to retain every iota of information that had been crammed into the War and Peace sized textbook. It was made all the more difficult by being just as dry as the Tolstoy work.

For an accomplished thirteen-year veteran of the police force, Kate Beckett was amazed that there was still so much to learn. All of it necessary, she supposed. Well, she was sure a lot of it was necessary … _some_ of it, at the very least, but not much of it was really very interesting.

Which was probably why she allowed herself to be so easily distracted away from it by her partner.

"Stupid. Shouldn't' have done that," Castle mumbled. "Gonna' kick your ass now."

He sat behind his desk, slumped over his laptop, completely and utterly phased out of her world, deep as he was inside Nikki's. She was pretty sure that in his current condition she could tell him the loft was on fire and he wouldn't hear her.

"Hit him, Nik."

He was so focused and intense when he wrote. She'd gotten so used to the man-child who giggled like a little girl every time he farted in bed that it hit her hard sometimes, who he was. Richard Castle, best selling author. Her favorite writer.

The man who's words she had loved above all others before she'd even met him was delving into the world he had created about her, _for_ her, right in front of her.

She could watch him write forever. _Would,_ she remembered with a burst of happiness, thumbing the engagement ring on her finger with a giddy little smile that made her roll her eyes at herself.

God, she wasn't a pathetic sap before he came along, was she?

Shaking her head, Kate checked her watch, eyes widening when she saw that it was well past lunchtime. They'd been in the office for hours. They both needed a break.

"Castle."

"Oh, did a girl just punch you in your stupid mouth and knock you flat? Asshole."

"Castle."

"Yeah, feel that, you bastard. Feel the _Heat_."

"Castle!"

He startled, blinking owlishly at her for a long moment as his mind took the long way around to reality. "Huh?"

"We missed lunch. You hungry?"

She lifted her body from a reclining position on the couch and stood, stretching out her back by raising her arms high above her head. His eyes slipped from her face to the sliver of skin revealed at her waistline when her shirt rose with the movement.

A smile started to curl his lips and her own responded to it. Yeah, he was definitely coming back to her world.

"Huh?" he grunted again.

"Are you hungry?" she repeated slowly.

She could feel his gaze lowering to her denim covered backside when she bent over to straighten up the books she'd been flicking through and without even looking back at him, she snapped, "Castle! For food."

"Definitely hungry for something," she heard him mutter and was contemplating the merits of encouraging his train of thought - great sex; maybe even great _desk _sex - when, far louder than his voice, his stomach replied.

She turned back to him smirking. He glared down at his traitorous abdomen and then looked back up at her and, releasing a dramatic sigh that would have made his mother proud, saved his work and stood.

"It's Saturday. Brunch Menu at Balthazar's until four."

"Sounds good."

Kate had always thought that one of the best things about Manhattan was never having to go far to find food. As it was, their destination was only a block away, so they joined hands and set a slow place towards the restaurant.

It was stiflingly hot outside of the comfort of the air-conditioned loft, the shade from the surrounding buildings not doing much to cool the thick air down and there being no discernable breeze. She wouldn't hurry their walk, but she definitely wanted to be inside the restaurant soon.

"How's the studying going?" he asked on their way and she groaned in response. He laughed. "That good?"

"I know I need to know this stuff, but … it's mind-numbing, Castle."

"So you've said," he chuckled, squeezing her hand. "You've read all the texts, gone to all the classes; you've memorized all the important stuff. You've studied your ass off the past few months, Kate. I don't know why you keep going over it."

"I want to pass."

They had to hug some guttering to get around where some repair work was going on on the sidewalk, but only one car was creeping along the street, seeking a decent parking spot.

"Beckett, you're the best cop in the city," Castle told her. "There's nothing more for you to learn about policing. And if there is, you're certainly not going to pick it up from that tree murdering, word-waster disguised as a book. If you fail the exam then I truly fear for this great city of ours."

"Yeah?"

"Well, obviously it will mean that everyone who's actually passed it doesn't know anything about being a real cop. And is probably really boring."

She leaned into him, huffing a laugh into his shoulder. "Best not let Captain Gates hear that theory."

Captain Gates. The reason Kate was slumping over textbooks and attending classes again after well over a decade had passed since she'd last thought of herself as a student.

When the captain had called her into her office a few months ago, the detective had mentally prepared a progress report on the case they'd been working on and then delivered it concisely, ready to get back to it.

But that hadn't been all that Gates had wanted.

_"I got an email a few days ago," she told Beckett. "A sergeant's exam has been scheduled for the end of June and I took the liberty of obtaining an application. I think you should fill it out."_

_She slid a thin stack of paper across the desk and Beckett merely stood there for a long moment, staring at it. Promotion?_

_Hesitantly, she fingered the forms. "Sir, I …" She trailed off, no idea how to respond._

_"Beckett, you've got such incredible potential. You may just be the best investigator I've ever met. You didn't go as far with the Fed's as I thought you would, but I'd be happy, proud, to help you fulfill that potential with the NYPD."_

_Kate looked up from absently staring at the application, to meet her boss' eyes, warmed by her words. "Thank you, Captain."_

_"You'll do it?"_

_"I haven't thought about promotion in a long time."_

_Never, really; not seriously. Kate had spent her first years on the force pushing herself hard, so determined to make detective so that she could reopen her mothers case, but she'd never really put her mind to going further than that._

_"Really, sir, I'm honored that you think I'm ready for this." She finally allowed herself to pick up the application._

_"Long past ready, Beckett," Gates confirmed. "But don't give me too much credit. I'm only doing this so that I can pass a few of these off to someone else," she said, indicating the piles of paperwork on her desk. "We've got supervisory officers to head robbery and patrol, but there's never been any money in the budget to bring another one in, there still isn't really, and Montgomery always chose to watch over the homicide division himself. For the past few years I've done the same and I've come to the conclusion that Roy must have been waiting for the same thing I have been."_

_"Captain?"_

_"We were waiting for you to sit that exam, Beckett. You'll be overseeing all three of our teams, instead of just your own, and all the uniforms assigned to you, so it'll mean a lot more responsibility, and, no matter what they say on the streets, more work, but I'd like for you to be promoted so I can put you in charge of homicide." Her face softened. "You deserve the recognition, Kate."_

_Then she straightened up in her seat and turned her attention to the work in front of her, dismissing the detective with, "You've got between January sixth and seventeenth to submit that. A little time to make your decision."_

"Well," Castle was responding to her comment, "the captain may prove my point."

Kate poked him in the ribs. "She's not that bad … anymore."

He agreed, "She's come a long way since she first came to the Twelfth."

At the door to the restaurant Kate stopped him and leaned up for a gentle kiss, forcing another patron to have to awkwardly dance around them, and not caring in the slightest.

"We all have," she smiled against his lips.

They both liked Balthazar's. It was always crowded, so Castle could partake in his favorite pastime of people watching, but the atmosphere wasn't stuffy, so Kate was comfortable. Not to mention the food was French and always wonderful.

Kate was four bites into her delicious Eggs Norwegian when her pocket vibrated and a familiar ringtone broke the comfortable quiet between Castle and herself. She pulled out her cell, not at all surprised to find _Dispatch_ on the call ID.

With one last bite and a mournful glance at what was left, Kate answered, her partner already pulling out a notepad and pen from his pocket and passing them across to her. She shot him a thankful look and wrote down the address being relayed to her

"Body?" he asked when she hung up, signaling for a waiter.

"Body," she sighed in confirmation.

She headed outside to text her partners while he paid and had just hit send when he appeared beside her. She didn't bat an eye to find he was carrying the basket of breads and pastries they'd ordered with their meals, but merely reached out and snagged a warm roll before grabbing his hand and setting a quick pace back to the loft.

* * *

The apartment building they'd pulled up at was nondescript, one of a thousand just like it in the city. A brief flash of her shield and the uniform at the door waved them through and into the lobby.

Inside certainly wasn't opulent, but it wasn't a slum either. It was decent, the kind of average place Kate could have lived in on her salary before she moved into a SoHo loft with her millionaire fiancé.

Esposito peeled away from where he and Ryan were talking to an ashen faced elderly gentleman and fell into step with the partners as they crossed the lobby, guiding them away from the elevators and towards the propped open door beside it.

"Victim is Erin Portman, thirty-seven, public school teacher. Lives here with her son and boyfriend. Building manager," he said, nodding back to Ryan and the man, "found her when he was leading a repairman up the stairs to fix whatever's wrong with the elevator."

They entered the darkened stairwell and when Kate glanced up she could see the bright glare from the portable lights the Crime Scene Unit had set up about four flights up.

"Where's the repairman?" Kate questioned.

"Put some gloves on him and sent him to the roof with a uni and a tech to have a look at the broken elevator."

To see if it had been intentionally sabotaged or not. Kate nodded, pleased but not surprised that Espo was covering all the bases. She had a damn good team.

"The son and boyfriend?"

"Not here. Manager says the boyfriend, Victor Martin, is a security guard at some fancy building downtown. Ryan's gonna' have him find the info so we can track him down. Son is sixteen, comes and goes as he pleases, so no idea where he is."

The fourth floor landing was crowded. A tech took photo's, while another bagged evidence for Lanie, who was crouched beside the body. The victim was sprawled out on the landing, neck twisted at a disturbing angle.

"Hey, Lanie," Beckett greeted, stepping around the tech with the camera for a closer look. Castle hovered on a step beside Espo, craning his neck to see.

"Watch your step," the ME warned, pointing toward a small pool of thick blood that had come from a nasty gash on the victims face.

Dropping to her haunches, Kate took in the dead woman. She was dressed casually, but in nice clothes, a flowing skirt and a white top. Dirty blonde hair and a face that was probably very pretty once, long ago, but had been lined and weathered for some time before she'd died. Blue eyes stared blankly, straight at Kate's boots.

"What have you got for me?"

"Not much, yet. Neck's broken, obviously."

"Can you tell if it was purposely snapped?"

Lanie shook her head. "Not yet."

Looking back past her friend, Beckett saw another scene tech several steps above them, placing a yellow placard beside something. "She fall?"

"Well, there's blood on the stairs and her glasses are smashed on the next landing up, beside her handbag, so she definitely came down that way," Lanie told her. "But whether she fell, or was pushed, I can't tell you yet."

Nodding, the detective mused, "So this might not even be a homicide."

"I'll get her on a slab as soon as I can and let you know for sure once I've finished up with her."

"She only came down the one flight?"

"Seems that way," Lanie told her.

Espo piped up as he and Castle sidled past, "She lived on the fifth floor."

"Like I said, I can't give you a definite cause of death yet, but she might have gotten up and walked away were it not for the broken neck."

"TOD?"

"Rigor's only just starting to set in, so, hedging my bets, between nine a.m. and one p.m. I'll narrow it down during autopsy."

"Thanks, Lanie."

Castle and Espo had made their way to the landing above, so Kate rose and, careful where she put her feet, joined them.

"Like I said, this is her floor," said the male detective, motioning towards the exit. "So she was either coming or going from home."

"Bag could have been dropped. Except for the glasses, which could have been smashed if she fell, there's no signs of a struggle," Castle commented.

"Doesn't mean there wasn't one," Esposito countered.

Kate looked around, took in the scene. The glasses were stylish, but bland, the lenses smashed and the frame snapped. She knelt down beside the handbag. A few things had fallen out of it; a pen, a can of spray on deodorant, and a purse. But what caught Kate's eye was the slim day planner.

Castle obliged with passing her a glove, undoubtedly pilfered from a crime scene tech and Kate slipped it on, using only that hand to flip the diary open and search for the day's date.

On the line for nine a.m. a single word was entered in neat, block handwriting: _Asshole._

"It might have been an accident, but we're going to investigate it as if it wasn't. Espo, ask some uniforms to canvass the neighbors, you and Ryan search the apartment, look for something that might tell us where she went this morning. And see what you can do about finding the son's whereabouts. Castle and I will get the boyfriends work address and talk to him."


	2. Chapter 2: First Stage

**Chapter Two: First Stage**

With tears streaming down his face and his head held in trembling hands, Victor Martin looked devastated, but Castle had worked enough murders with Beckett to know that looks could, and often were, deceiving.

They sat in a small security office in a downtown office building. The man himself was maybe mid-forties and had a stocky build, shorter than Castle, but broader and really well muscled beneath a neatly pressed cheap black suit.

He told them he'd left for work at eight in the morning, which would, once confirmed with his supervisor, give him a solid alibi.

"Do you know if Erin was planning on going anywhere? Meeting with anyone?"

"She was up for the day," Martin told them. "Dressed. She didn't tell me she had anything planned, but maybe she was going to get some shopping? I know we were low on milk."

"How long have you and Erin been together?" Kate asked gently and Rick still, even after all this time, marveled at how well she handled those who were grieving for their victim.

"About a year and a half. We met at a bar, she was sitting alone and I bought her a drink. We moved in with each other about eight months ago. I …" His breathing hitched and he rubbed at his tears angrily. "I bought a ring last month. I … I don't know if I was going to give it to her. I loved her, but Erin was …"

"Erin was what, Mr. Martin?"

"Cold. Not … not really, but if you didn't know her, you'd think she was. She was closed off and … a year and a half and I barely knew her, really. She never really let me in, you know? Always kept me at a distance. I loved her, but I was … I was getting tired of waiting for her to meet me in the middle. I … I was thinking about leaving," Martin finished on a whisper.

Rick knew exactly what Victor Martin meant, but instead of sympathizing, he felt himself cooling towards the man who was ready to walk away from the woman he loved. If he'd really wanted to marry Erin, he'd have waited. It was worth it, Rick thought with a quick glance at his partner.

"Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt her?"

"No, no, of course not. Like I said, Erin was closed off, but she wasn't an awful person. She didn't have many friends. She kept to herself, we both did. Never … no, God. There's never been anything … anyone that Erin has upset enough to do this."

"Her son," Beckett began, "would you know how we could find him?"

"Danny? No." A look of anger crossed his face. "But wherever he is, it won't be good. That kid's nothing but trouble. Broke his mother's heart time and time again."

"Would he have hurt her?" Castle questioned.

Martin looked surprised at the question, as though it had never crossed his mind, but took a moment to think about it. "I don't think so," he said. "He's no good, but I really can't see him hurting her. It was just them for a long time, they … they loved each other. Maybe …"

Beckett pressed, "What?"

"He's - I'm sure he's been into drugs, Erin was worried about it too. Maybe, if he was high or something, but he wouldn't have meant it. He, he really loves his mom, he's just … He's a teenager, yeah? A little prick, but just a teenager."

"Do you have his cell number?"

"Yes." He pulled out his own phone and gave the number to Beckett, before wiping his face with his hand again. "I just - God, I can't believe this."

"It hasn't been ruled a homicide yet, Mr. Martin, but we're treating it as one for now. If you can think of anything that might help us find who did this," Kate said softly, handing over her card, "please give me a call."

Back in Beckett's cruiser, she asked Castle, "What'd you think?"

"I didn't like him."

She shot him a puzzled glance, then shrugged. "Well, he didn't strike me as off. And his boss confirmed he was at work by nine and didn't leave. So he alibied out. You didn't get a good feeling about him?"

"It's not that," Castle said. "I don't know if he killed her, but … he seemed appropriately devastated, but I just don't think he really loved her all that much."

When she shot him another confused look, he hastened to explain, "He was going to leave her. He bought her a ring, but he was going to leave her because she wasn't … there yet. If a woman means enough to you that you want to propose spending the rest of your life together, then you wait until hell freezes over for her to agree."

Her face softened in understanding and his chest filled with the adoring look she sent him. She reached over the center console to squeeze his hand and _wow,_ he never got over how he loved her.

How she loved him.

* * *

Officer Ann Hastings had the unpleasant job of going through their victim's bedroom and bathroom. Ryan and Esposito, bless their stupid male souls, had uncomfortably explained that they were glad to have her around to do it, since they really had no idea what to look for when it came to women hiding things.

Ann loved her job, always had, but it was more now; she felt like she was actually doing something worthwhile.

Pretty much every murder case for the last several months, Beckett had requested her for their team and Karpowski, following Beckett's lead, had started doing the same until now, when it was somewhat of a competition between the two lead detectives, to see who could get her first.

It made Ann swell with pride. She was a good police officer, she knew that, but she'd never expected to be so appreciated by cops she respected as much as Beckett and Karpowski, especially after the whole Lone Vengeance … mishap.

It gave her hope for her career, working with the homicide teams. There had been a point after Beckett had interrogated her and discovered the truth about Ann's nighttime activities, that she'd firmly believed that, if she even managed to keep her job, she'd be walking a beat for the rest of her life.

She'd certainly gotten more than her share of the shit work; the boring and the dirty, mostly. The other officers had sent skewed looks her way and the patrol lieutenant in particular had been harsh with her.

_"Think you're better than us, Hastings? Being a cop not fucking good enough for you? We not getting the job done fast enough? There's the door. Take your fucking spandex with you."_

She hadn't quit. She would have walked away gracefully had she been fired, but she had refused to quit. She'd stuck it out and kept her head held high and it was paying off now.

She wasn't just helping with the investigations, she felt like she was part of the team.

Her boyfriend, Paul, had jokingly said he wanted to start a new graphic novel series, about a tough, sexy cop who used to moonlight as a superhero, but now solved crimes the right way.

At least, she hoped he was joking. She'd had her fill of being his muse, thank you. Sometimes she wondered how Beckett handled it day in and day out.

Erin Portman had been a fairly average woman, it seemed. The largest bedroom of the two-room apartment was like a thousand others, neat and orderly, with cheap furniture.

The comingling of two lives, a man and a woman's, was apparent, with her hairbrush next to his aftershave on the bathroom counter, their clothes hanging side by side in the tiny closet.

She searched through everything carefully, but respectfully, keeping in mind that the man who'd just lost his girlfriend had to come home to it that night.

There were no odd socks. The only thing that might have yielded something was a small wooden box shoved right at the back of the closet, behind a pair of bright yellow heels and joggers that looked like they'd never been used.

Inside of it were trinkets and memories; a pressed flower, a sparkling rock, notes and concert tickets, photographs. Nothing special, really. Ann had one herself at home that even included a similar stack of love letters as Erin's.

She took a quick glance at them and put them back, sitting everything in the box just as it had been before pushing it back into its place. She searched the rest of the closet, the last area left.

Nothing.

* * *

The warm light of late afternoon streamed into the NYPD's Twelfth Precinct, giving it a comfortable, welcoming glow.

Castle had been in a few police stations in his time, mostly for research, occasionally as a more official guest of law enforcement, but the Twelfth was undoubtedly his favorite.

It was more than how much time he'd spent there - enough for it to feel like a second home - more than the friends he'd made. Even more than it being the central location in his epic love story with Beckett.

The Twelfth was just warmer, more alive than most stations, as if it had been imbued with the personalities of those who had inhabited it for years.

Perhaps he'd personalized it too much. Maybe it was just his overactive writers imagination, but sometimes he felt like he could _feel _the building itself.

On good days it seemed to envelope him, settle him with friendliness and contentment. And in bad times, like the weeks that followed Roy Montgomery's death, and Kate's shooting, it had seemed darker, colder, as if it were missing something; mourning.

He'd be mocked mercilessly if the other members of the team learned of his thoughts but sometimes, when he ran his fingers along the walls, he could swear he could almost hear the Twelfth trying to whisper its stories to him.

And oh, how many stories it would have to tell.

With a gentle rap against the woodwork and a silent hello, Castle followed his partner to her desk and watched her drop her bag into the bottom drawer.

Beckett would likely mock him just as cruelly as Ryan and Espo, but she would also give him that little smile of hers, the one that said, _'You're a crazy dork and I'm stupid for you,'_ and that was enough to put a skip in his step as he broke away from her for the break room to make coffees.

When he returned, so had their partners, and they were relaying what they'd found in the time the two groups had been parted while Kate dragged over a whiteboard and pulled the cap off a marker.

"Both the repairman and Cunnings down in CSU say that nothing looked off with the elevator," Esposito explained. "General wear and tear until something needed fixing and that model shuts itself down until it's seen to."

"Nothing out of the ordinary in the apartment. No indication of who she was meeting with this morning," Ryan said. "Tossed the kids room. Found some pot and a bag of suspicious pills, but nothing that might tell us where he is. Found a picture though."

He passed them a family photo, a teenage boy with spiked black hair, wearing dark clothes and a scowl, next to his blonde, brittle-smiled mother.

Castle handed over the piece of paper with Danny Portman's cell number written on it. "This might help."

Ryan took it and nodded. "I'll see if I can get a trace."

Esposito said, "Canvass turned something up. Little old lady who lives across the hall is a bit of a snoop. Said she's seen a man around with the vic every now and then."

"Not the boyfriend?" Beckett questioned.

She was writing Erin Portman's name beneath the Victim subtitle with the same care she always did. Setting up the murder board was a ritual for her, one that Castle had pinned within the first month of their partnership. No matter the victim, Beckett would take the time to do it right and with respect.

"Nope," Espo confirmed. "She was sure of that, but didn't know who the guy was. Said she'd recognize him again, though. I asked her to come and sit with a sketch artist but she's got bingo tonight," he said with a disgusted scowl.

"Maybe our unknown 'Asshole.'"

"Could be. Thing is," he continued, "just a few nights ago, she heard arguing in the hall, so had a look through the peephole, watched the whole thing. Our victim and the mystery man were having it out."

"What about?"

The detective shook his head. "She couldn't hear it through the door. Hushed whispers mostly, the occasional loud word. It looked intense. He kept trying to touch her and she kept shoving him away. Old lady says he grabbed her arm pretty hard at one point. Ended when she slammed the door in his face."

"Affair?" Castle offered.

Espo shrugged. Kate mused, "Maybe," as she drew up a timeline on the bottom of the board, empty for now barring Lanie's estimated time of death window and the nine a.m. meeting.

She instructed Esposito, "Have someone go and pick the old lady up tomorrow, sit her down and see if we can't put a face on this guy. We'll have to contact the boyfriend again, see if he knows anything about it."

Ryan came back, held a post-it out to Beckett. "Got a GPS location for that cell number."

"Harlem? He's a fair way from home. Okay, Castle and I will go see if we can find him. Ryan, get everything you can on our vic. Hopefully we can use her financials to retrace her steps. Espo, pull her phone records."

She took a glance at her watch and sighed. Castle looked towards the clock, noting it was already after five, and understood. They'd get little accomplished today.

"Get all that together," she ordered her team, "and then go home. We'll go over it all in the morning. Lanie won't have time to get to the autopsy today anyway, and forensics will take a while. I've got an appointment early tomorrow so I'll be a little late, but get started first thing and call me if anything pops."

Espo looked pleased to be getting out at a reasonable hour and went to do her bidding. Ryan looked both ecstatic and a little defeated that he'd be going home. Castle understood only too well those particular mixed feelings. With a six month old at home, he wanted to see his family, but home life was even more hectic than a police station with a baby around.

Castle turned to his fiancée, who had capped her marker and was looking at the near empty board as if its lack of information personally offended her. She sighed and met his eyes.

"Let's go find this kid, break the news to him." And then muttered dispiritedly, "If he doesn't already know."

* * *

They followed the music.

The street Beckett's phone had led them to was all destitute and foreclosed buildings and storefronts. It wasn't until they were nearly on top of the GPS coordinates that they could hear the heavy, rhythmic thumping.

It led them to a door that had been propped open with a crumbling brick next to a particularly putrid dumpster in the alley nearby.

When their eyes adjusted to the light, Castle moved to stand behind Beckett as she rested her hand on the butt of her weapon. There were twelve teens of varying ages, all of them in black, or white ripped clothes, sporting try-hard punk looks. On a busted up coffee table set between busted up, rotting couches, was more drug paraphernalia than the Twelfth had in evidence storage.

The music was coming from the front of the darkened room, where three of the youngsters were rocking out. It actually didn't sound too bad, but Castle could barely understand a word of the lyrics being screamed into a microphone.

"NYPD! Nobody move!" Beckett tried.

They didn't, because nobody could hear a word she was saying. She sighed and strode across to the sound system set up in the corner, a mass of iPads and phones around a laptop that was hooked up to a portable speaker. She shut the lid.

There was a moment of silence when everything shut down, except for the drum that kept beating until it realized it was unaccompanied, and then all eyes swung to the detective.

"I'll try that again. NYPD, nobody move."

She glared at them hard, gun and badge visible, eyes drawn to both as they followed the length of her arm down to where her hand was planted on her hip. For a long moment there was stillness, as if they were too scared not to comply.

It was shortly followed by complete pandemonium. They bolted, all in different directions, some for the door they'd come in, others for another room and a likely exit.

He heard Beckett curse. The drummer had tripped over a lead on the makeshift stage and when he'd lifted his head to stare at them, Castle had recognized him from the photo.

"Beckett," he said.

She was already on it. "Danny Portman, don't move."

He ignored her, scrambled to his feet and broke for the door, Beckett on his heels and Castle right behind her.

They shot out, back into the daylight and he had to blink a few times until his vision had adjusted. When he could see clearly again, Portman had a good distance on them and Beckett had stopped, her gun lifted.

"Police! Freeze!"

Castle knew she wouldn't fire, wouldn't dare risk killing a kid who might just be innocent, only running because of the drugs, or he was scared. Often though, just the threat of the weapon was enough for people to stop.

Not in this case. Portman kept running, until he'd rounded a corner.

"Fuck," he heard from Beckett as she bolted after him. Castle hastened to follow.

They turned into the dumpster lined space behind the building, her with quite a bit of distance on him and about to turn another corner, onto a street. He ran, determined to keep sight of her, thinking that a visit to the gym was in order until -

_Whomp!_

He saw the wooden paling coming, but his forward momentum allowed him no time to stop. It smashed into his face with painful force and he dropped, everything going black.


	3. Chapter 3: Down Time

**Chapter Three: Down Time**

When Rick came to, he was looking up between the surrounding buildings, absently noting that it was getting dark.

"Castle. Castle. Come on, wake up."

He groaned, blinked to clear his hazy vision and turned his head. He was surprised that he wasn't met with Beckett's concerned visage, but rather the bloodied face of Danny Portman, right beside him.

"Castle? You okay?"

Her hand was on his face. He followed her arm up, found that she was kneeling on Portman's back, but only had eyes for him.

He tried to smile. "Hey."

She slumped a little in relief. "Hey. How's your head?"

"Hurts," he admitted, feeling the pounding increase as he took note of it.

"Yeah, you got hit pretty hard," she trailed into a growl, pressing more of her weight down. Portman grunted.

"Back ups on the way," she told him. "And an ambulance."

He sat up with a deep wince. "I'm okay."

"You got knocked out, Castle." He opened his mouth to argue but she put one of her hands on his thigh and squeezed, her worry effectively shutting him up. "Just let them check you out."

"Okay," he agreed. "What about him?"

"High as a kite," she said, glaring down at the back of Portman's head. "I'll have a uniform take him back to the precinct. He'll have come down by the time we get in tomorrow."

"Did you tell him yet?"

She sighed, softened. "I don't think he'd understand even if I did, right now. He's completely out of it."

Castle looked down at the boy's eyes, glazed and scattered, and noted that she was right. The kid was in no condition to hear and absorb the fact that his mother was dead.

An hour later, a paramedic convinced risk of a concussion was minimal but that he should be watched closely just in case, he and Beckett were back in the loft, getting ready for a comfortable evening in and he was inspecting the purpling lump on his temple in the bathroom mirror.

"Stop it," she chided, brushing his prodding fingers away from it.

He turned to the side, squinted his eyes. "Think it makes me look manly, Beckett?"

She snorted and splashed water on her face. "Yeah, Castle. You're a big, rugged, stud."

"Your sarcasm hurts," he pouted, giving his temple another poke. "And so does this bruise."

She turned off the tap at her sink and dried her face on a towel before moving back towards him and taking his hand.

"Come on, babe. You can take a few painkillers and I'll kiss it better."

She did as promised, pushing a few aspirin into his palm and brushing her lips against his aching head. He sighed at the gentle moment, knowing it was silly and all in his mind, but really feeling better for it.

They ordered Italian and ate it on the floor around the coffee table over a Walking Dead episode that had been recorded months ago.

Between cases and meetings and wedding plans and studying, they had a lot to catch up on, television wise. He felt a marathon was in order and had to figure out a way to convince her to take a long weekend to lounge around with him.

"Do you think Danny Portman killed his mother?" he asked as Rick Grimes put a bullet through a walker's skull. Heh. Rick. All the coolest guys were called Rick.

Kate shrugged. "I hope not. I know it rarely turns out well, but I prefer it when we can put the cuffs on a really bad guy. A kid killing his mother because, what? He was high? I hate endings like that."

"I'd write you a better one if I could."

She smiled at him, leaned over to lick carbonara sauce from his lips. "I know you would. I love you."

"Mm," he hummed against her mouth. "Me too."

He loved nights like these, just the two of them in the quiet of the loft, little chats and comfortable silences. She'd grown at home in his space so easily that when she'd actually officially moved in, it hadn't been any kind of event; just the ending of her lease and the moving of the few things she hadn't already brought over.

She was staying forever. His chest filled and warmed with that knowledge. Two months to go and Kate Beckett would be his wife. They'd have a thousand more quiet nights in.

He both was and wasn't surprised by how eager he was to spend the rest of his life with her. He'd never felt like this before either of his previous marriages; had never been so stupidly excited about the future with the woman he loved.

The difference, of course, was that she was Kate and he'd never loved anyone like he loved her, was pretty sure he didn't even know what the fuck being in love with a woman even was before she took his heart. He knew from the beginning that it would be different with her.

Fed and relaxed, she put him to bed with another kiss to his injury and then retreated to clean up before joining him.

Hands beneath his head, Rick stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot. His head was still quite sore, but he was so utterly content that he barely noticed it.

He must have still been looking like a very happy loon when she came back and slipped in beside him because she asked, "What?"

Rick pulled her into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Nothing. Just love you."

* * *

Dates with Alexis were becoming a regular thing and Kate couldn't put into words how happy it made her, that she and her fiancé's daughter were getting closer.

It had been touch and go for a while. They hadn't had much contact after Beckett had come back from that summer - that _awful _summer - after she'd been shot, but each time they had there'd been tension between them.

Then, when she and Castle had gotten together for real, though nothing had been said aloud, there'd been a noticeable vibe from the girl: _I don't understand this and I don't really like it._

It had gotten worse after the engagement, when Kate had practically been living in the loft unofficially, and Alexis had come back from her jungle adventure with a scruffy hippy souvenir. Most of that though had seemed more from the backlash of the tension that had built up between Castle and his daughter over the whole Pi issue.

Then an innocent man had been about to get executed and Kate had helped save his life and Alexis had been gracious enough to thank her, holding out a tentative, trembling olive branch that Kate had grasped with both hands.

Polite conversation had slowly turned once more into warm welcoming, rebuilding the kind-of friendship they'd shared before a bullet had torn through Kate's heart and all of their lives.

Calls had been made, advice had been sought, and time had been shared until they'd gotten to this point, where sometimes Kate knew what was going on in Alexis' life before Castle did.

She'd never be the girl's mother, but she vowed she was going to be the best damn stepmother anyone could ask for. She'd be the kind of woman that deserved a place in the life of a bright, wonderful girl like Alexis.

So there they were, sharing ice creams beneath a tree in Madison Square Park, watching the people move by. Alexis had called just as Kate had walked out of her appointment and though she needed to get to work, a little more time wouldn't hurt. She'd been trying to always have time for Alexis.

"Did you pass?" the girl asked, licking melted strawberry ice cream off her wrist.

Kate shrugged. "My doctor said I'm perfectly healthy, as far as he can tell. It was only a general physical and he said the only thing he was worried about was my heart, but I saw my cardiologist a few weeks ago, just to be sure, since I was worried about it too, but nothing's changed. It won't even be mentioned in the evaluation report."

Alexis paused in the consumption of her ice cream and looked at Kate. "It still gives you trouble?"

"No," Kate assured.

"Then why do you need a regular cardiologist?"

"Standard stuff after heart damage. There were a few concerns in the months afterwards, because of the scar tissue. The heart's a muscle, the scar tissue isn't, it doesn't contract like the muscle does. Mine's okay though, minimal scarring. None of my doctor's think it will ever be a problem, but I'll have to see a cardiologist once every couple of years for a checkup."

"You feel good, though?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Better than I have in a long time. Your dad thinks it's because I'm not living completely off take-out menu's anymore."

Alexis laughed. "The power of a home cooked meal. So do well on the test and it's a shoe-in, yeah?"

"Not exactly," Kate told her. "There's a lot of other cops sitting this test and not many actually get the promotion. They look at your record and mine isn't exactly spotless. I've a few notations about insubordination and I've been suspended before. So there's that, then you have to score high, and it's not just the test that determines your score, you get credit for length of service and for medals and awards."

"Have you got any?"

"A few," she admitted modestly. All the adventures she and Castle had gotten into, it was actually miraculous Kate wasn't weighed down by the honorable citations she'd received. "I can't use one of them, though," she explained to Alexis. "But they'll take it into account when they're reviewing the highest test scorers if I make the cut."

"Which one?"

"Purple Shield," Kate said, uncomfortable even thinking about the medal the currently resided in a dark place on a high shelf in her and Castle's closet.

"Is that like a Purple Heart?" the younger woman questioned. "Did you get it for …?"

Back to her shooting again. They'd picked at that scab a few times, to try and get it to heal better, but overall they didn't really talk about it, none of them, and now, pretty much twice in one session without even a single tear or raised voice. Progress, she supposed.

"Yes," Kate answered. "It's given for serious injury or … death in the line of duty." She frowned. "I didn't want it. I was giving a eulogy, not pushing an old woman out from in front of a bus."

"But that was part of your duty," Alexis said. "And you almost died doing it, so, you kind of deserve it, right?"

Kate shook her head. "They gave it to me because of how publicized the shooting was and the angle that the media took with it: _hero cop gunned down at funeral._ I was already one of the best-known cops in the city, because of your dad, but it kind of exploded for a bit after that. People were going crazy over Nikki Heat getting shot in the heart by a sniper and surviving."

"There were photographers outside the hospital," Alexis remembered, frowning. "I didn't know at the time that that's why they were there. Dad kept me away from them, but I read a few articles online afterwards."

Well and truly ready to not be talking about it anymore, Kate asked, "So, how's Pi?"

Castle still couldn't bring himself to ask that question without some of his disgust showing. Martha couldn't without sounding condescending, as if she knew all too well that _this too shall pass _and she was just humoring Alexis while it lasted. Meredith kept calling him 'Cake' or 'Raisin' and other equally ridiculous things.

Kate was pretty sure she was the only one who asked without something else in her tone. It wasn't that she liked the guy, or thought he was anywhere near good enough for Alexis, it was just that she thought the younger woman was old enough and smart enough to make her own choices - and her own mistakes.

God knew some of the guys she dated when she was younger made Pi look like the epitome of an upstanding gentleman.

"He's good," Alexis grinned. "Did you know there's a Greenpeace ship in port here? It's on its way up to some oilrig near Greenland. He's taking a tour today, probably driving everyone there crazy with his questions."

"He's just passionate," Kate said with a smile. "It's a good thing. As long as he's as passionate about you as he is about the environment, you guys will be fine."

Alexis blushed, but was smiling widely. "I think he is. He's … he's really into me," said shyly.

"Good," Kate gave her a shoulder nudge and a smile.

"Thank you. You're the only one who hasn't said a bad word about him. It means a lot, knowing that there's someone in my family who accepts my choice."

Kate's heart tightened and fluttered, then swelled to bursting: _family._ It was the first time Alexis had used the word and included her. She thought, were she not so very practiced at refusing them, tears might have even made an appearance. She shook it off, not about to start sobbing all over Alexis.

"That's the thing, Lex; it's _your_ choice and I respect that. The thing about your dad is, it's not just Pi. He's never going to think any guy is good enough for you. All dad's are like that with their little girls."

"Does yours hate my dad?"

"No," Kate admitted. "But, let me tell you about when I was your age. My first serious boyfriend was a grunge rocker. Dad despised him, with good reason probably, which only made me want him more.

"After that was Hayden," she sighed wistfully, smiling as she thought back. "Way too good for me at that age. Actually, I think I only started with him to try and corrupt him.

"He was smart, polite and caring, the sweetest guy. Did so well in school he was on the fast track to Yale, volunteered at homeless shelters on weekends, brought me flowers and trinkets just so I'd smile at him." She met Alexis' eyes pointedly. "My dad hated him."

A bubble of laughter came from the girl. "Why?"

Kate shrugged. "Because he was my boyfriend, because we were having sex, because I was spending more time with Hayden than I was at home. It's not easy for a dad to realize that his little girl isn't his little girl anymore, for them to realize that one day, they'll belong to someone else.

"I think, with my dad … after he stopped drinking, I think he knew I wasn't a girl anymore, that somewhere along the way I'd become a woman and that he'd missed the change because he was in the bottom of a bourbon bottle and he felt guilty about it - still does.

"I think he felt like he'd lost the right to treat me like I was his, since I'd grown up so much without him. Since he sobered up, he hasn't said a word about anyone I've dated. He probably feels they're not good enough - though I'm pretty sure he loves Rick - but he won't say anything."

"So do you think that's all Dad needs? Time to realize I'm all grown up? I've been living with Pi for almost a year now, how long does it take?"

Kate smiled. "He's in mourning, Alexis, and it might take him a while to get over it, because he feels like he's lost the most precious thing he had."

The younger woman snorted. "That's ridiculous. He hasn't lost me. He never will. I'll always be his little girl."

"I know that," Kate said, bumping shoulders with the girl again. "And you know that, but it's going to take him some time to know that too. But when he does, honey, he'll stop being such an idiot about your boyfriends. He'll probably still think they're not good enough for you, but he'll ease up because he won't feel threatened by them anymore."

"I hope you're right."

"Of course I am," Kate said, climbing to her feet and holding out a hand to help Alexis up. "Come on, why don't we get a coffee before I've got to ditch you."

"Sounds good."

They had just deposited their ice cream napkins in a nearby trash can and Alexis was telling Kate about her summer plans when Kate's phone started belting out The Pogues. Damn Castle and his fiddling with her things.

She didn't even have to look to know it was Ryan calling and she frowned, wondering what they'd found that he needed to call when she'd texted earlier that she wouldn't be much longer.

She shot Alexis an apologetic look and answered, "Beckett."

_"Beckett, Ryan. I'm sorry, I know you had something to do this morning and I know it must be important, since we've got a case and -"_

"Ryan, get to the point."

_"Couple of suits walked into Gates' office a few minutes ago. I think it's about our case."_

"FBI?"

_"Don't know, never saw their badges. But they definitely smell like Feds."_

"You sure it's about our case?"

_"Gates threw me a few very pointed looks, which I read to mean she wanted me to call you, so …"_

"Yeah." Kate sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up and glanced at Alexis sadly. "Rain check?"

Alexis just shrugged. "Duty calls."


	4. Chapter 4: Men In Suits

**Chapter Four: Men In Suits**

Castle had meetings all day, so Kate didn't call him on the way to the precinct. She and Alexis parted ways at her car and she broke a few laws getting to the Twelfth as quickly as possible, frustration building with the threat of losing her case.

Gates was standing behind her desk, two tall suited men before her and, judging by the harsh lines of their body language, the discussion they were having seemed anything but pleasant. The captain looked relieved to see Beckett, immediately waving her in.

"Sir?"

"Beckett, meet Supervisory Deputy Bob Dulle, and Inspector Thomas Black from the U.S. Marshal Service. They're here about your victim."

"We never said that," stated the older man, Dulle.

Gates rolled her eyes. "Do you think I pulled my captain's shield out of a crackerjack box, Deputy Dulle? If the words _'Tell us what you can about Ms. Portman's death' _didn't clue me in, I'm in the wrong line of work."

"Erin Portman was in the witness protection program?" Beckett questioned.

Gates waved it off. "Don't bother, Beckett. I've been trying to convince them to cooperate for the last twenty minutes."

"She's dead, maybe murdered, and if she was in WITSEC then that will likely give us a direction to look for her killer, but you aren't willing to help out?"

"We didn't say that, either," the man said. "In fact, we are willing to cooperate with your investigation."

"Really?" Gates queried. "Then Erin Portman was in WITSEC?"

"Until this is ruled a homicide, I won't be answering that question."

Beckett and Gates simultaneously muttered a scathing, "You just did," then the younger woman continued, "I don't think you quite understand what the word cooperation means, Deputy Dulle."

"Inspector Black will be made available to assist with your enquiries in any way that his duties permit, _after_ this has been confirmed as a homicide."

Beckett looked at the other man. Tall, well dressed, and handsome, with close-cropped black hair and deep frown lines around his mouth and eyes. His gaze traced her body in a heated, skeazy manner she'd long since become accustomed to, but his eyes were hard and cold when they reached hers. There was something deeply unnerving about the contrast.

Kate, whose gut feeling had saved her life on many an occasion, took an instant, instinctual dislike to him and was perhaps a little harsh when she snapped, "She was your witness?"

He shifted subtly, but didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"His contact details, Captain Gates," the older man said, placing a card down on the desk. "Inform us once your ME has made a ruling."

And then they strode from the room.

"Nice guys," Beckett mumbled, glaring at their retreating backs.

"Mm," Gates agreed, picking up the card and handing it off to the detective. "I just _love_ the way they ask for things so nicely." Her eyes met Beckett's. "So your victim was a witness, but that doesn't tell us who might have wanted her dead."

"No, only they can do that." Beckett frowned. "But I'm pretty sure they won't."

"They have to cooperate with a homicide investigation unless it interferes with the protection of one of their witnesses. As it seems the witness in this case is already beyond harm, they won't have a choice."

Beckett nodded, deep in thought. If Erin Portman had been in witness protection, they'd have a very clear line of avenue to pursue in the investigation into her death. She needed to call Lanie.

"Before you rush off, Beckett, how goes the studying?"

"Er, just fine, sir. I'm learning a lot."

Gates was smirking, wearing a knowing look that reminded Beckett that this woman had also taken the sergeant's exam once. "I'm sure you are."

Ryan met her the moment she stepped out of the office. "Well?"

"Marshal's."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Witness protection? Of course!"

"Ryan?"

"Well, I pulled her records. I was going over them this morning before they came in. On the surface, it all seems in order, but there were a few little things that didn't look … right."

"Such as?"

"Her college transcripts, for example. All the numbers on it were rounded."

She sat down at her desk. "I'm sorry?"

"Think about your college transcripts. You might get an even three or four on your GPA one term, two. But all of Erin Portman's were rounded three's, not a single decimal point, and always a three. It was the same with all of her scores, repetitive numbers and no decimal points. I thought it odd, but it didn't make me suspicious."

"That doesn't make sense," Beckett argued. "Even if they had to mock up a college transcript for her, she still would have had to qualify to be a teacher at some point, wouldn't those scores have been used?"

"What if she wasn't a teacher in her previous life? They probably had to have the full identity in place before they moved her, no time to wait for her to actually finish college. Oh, and there's no indication in her financials that she was paying back student loans, that she'd ever even had student loans."

Not entirely odd, on the outset. Beckett herself had never paid any student loans to Stanford or NYU, her grandfather having set up a trust in his will that completely paid for all of her educational needs.

Ryan wasn't finished though. "Other little things. No credit history going past a certain time and a monthly deposit of two thousand dollars into her bank account from an untraceable source that started six years ago and stopped three years ago."

"They supported her until she'd testified."

"A few other things too, that just seemed … off. She's got twelve traffic violations over the last six years, but before that nothing. Only got a New York license at that point too, even though everything else indicates she was a native. Looking at it all, individually, it isn't really much."

"But added to the visit from U.S. Marshal's, it makes sense." Beckett nodded. "Alright, get Tory up here and dig deeper. They won't tell us anything, but if we look hard enough, we may find out who wanted to kill her all by ourselves. So you have her financials? Anything from before her murder?"

"Yeah, went over them this morning. No activity for yesterday at all."

"So no clue as to her movements before she was killed."

Espo was growling into the phone over at his desk. She wanted to know what he'd found from the victims phone records, but he was busy. So first, Lanie.

_"I haven't got to your girl yet, hon," _was the greeting she received.

"I need to know if this is a homicide, Lanie. Soon."

_"What's the rush?"_

"We've got suits withholding information until it's confirmed."

_"Feds, huh? Friends of yours?"_

"No. Marshal's."

_"Oh, so she was a -"_

"That's the thing, they won't tell us anything until you tell us it's a homicide. But, yes, it definitely seems like she was."

She heard metal clanging against metal over the phone as Lanie assured her, _"Look, I've got a couple of priorities that my boss is breathing down my neck over. You see the news about that church shooting?_

_"Well, I've got one of the casualties open on the table right now, but I'll push your girl to the front of the queue after this. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have a full report for you. Promise."_

Kate curbed her impatience, having worked the job long enough to know that these things took time, and thanked the doctor before hanging up.

Espo still held the phone to his ear, but was wearing the look of an angry man on hold, so she approached.

"Phone company," he told her. "There was one number, called at least twice a week since the phone was activated and every single day for the last two weeks. Been trying to get them to give me something about who it might be, but they're stonewalling me."

"Get a warrant."

"Working on it, but thought I'd try my luck in the meantime."

More waiting. Waiting for names, waiting for information, waiting for forensics and autopsies. It annoyed the hell out of Kate.

"Have fun with that," she offered, and then headed away, towards the one person who might actually have a few answers for her right now.

* * *

Rick Castle was not a man who ever needed to worry about money and the reason for that, other than being a wildly popular best-selling author, was because he _did_ worry about money.

They always got by when he was growing up and sometimes, when Martha had been on a good run, they had more than enough, but he didn't think she'd ever really concerned herself with making it last and there had been some very, very tight times, so he'd been a boy who had appreciated the value of money.

That had flown out the window when he'd gotten his first royalty check. He'd blown through it so fast he'd eaten spaghetti-o's until he'd finished his next book.

It wasn't until Alexis had come along that he'd really gotten wise and started to take his childhood to heart. He never wanted his daughter to ever have those same concerns. He wanted to be able to give her everything she ever needed or even wanted.

So he'd started to worry about money, much like he had when he'd been a young teenager staring at a stack of bills and knowing they couldn't afford to pay them that month.

He'd pulled together a good group of advisers and had made wise investments and secured his future and his daughter's. And now, going into his third marriage, he had enough that not only would Alexis never need to worry, but nor would any future children he might have.

She obviously knew he was rich, but Rick didn't think Kate really had any idea just how much money he had. He was certain she didn't care; would, in fact, likely be horrified when she was updated on his - _their_ - financial status.

A good portion of it was owed to the two men across from him now: Howard Kramer, one of his financial advisor's, and Jeffrey Little, his money lawyer. Geniuses of their crafts, they'd both worked on Rick's team for years.

At the moment, they were sorting out all the paper details that came with adding another person to his accounts and Jeffrey was eyeing him warily from beneath bushy silver eyebrows.

"You weren't this troublesome when you married the last one," the lawyer said with a sigh. "We're just trying to protect you here."

"I don't need protection from Kate," he told them firmly, for perhaps the tenth time. "The difference between her and Gina is that she_ is_ the last one."

"She'd still have access to your money, Rick," Howard argued, pushing thick, black glasses up his nose. "This way would just make sure that you don't end up in the same situation your mother did after her last marriage."

When that bastard had emptied her accounts and disappeared. Rick snorted to himself. If, God forbid, Kate ever left him, he knew the only things she'd take with her would be her gun and her shoes. Oh, and the pieces of his shattered heart.

Howard was still talking. "The account she'd have access to would be topped up every month, same as Alexis' and your mothers. She'd have as much as she could ever need and your finances would be safe if she ever left."

Ouch. Banish that thought.

"Guys, I appreciate the concern, but no. I told you what I want. Put her name on everything."

They sighed, sharing a glance that seemed to express their agreement that their exasperating client was a lunatic.

Turning back to him, Jeffrey asked, "And the pre-nup? I've written one up that is very fair, if you'll just -"

They'd had this argument before too, so Rick very carefully, very sternly, bit out, "No pre-nup."

"Alright, but don't come crying to me when you're destitute in a few years."

"Jeffrey," Castle snapped in a tone lowered to remind the man who was paying whom. "Please don't talk about the end of this marriage before it's even begun. I know that I don't have a great track record, but I couldn't be more certain about my choice now.

"If," oh, it really did hurt to even think about it, "Kate divorces me, the very last thing I will be crying about is money. I'd give up my entire fortune if it meant she'd stay. If she wants to leave, she can take everything, so long as she's happy."

"Everything?"

He waved an impatient hand. "Assigned exceptions excluded, obviously."

Howard's glasses had slipped down his nose again as he lowered his head over a portfolio. "Ah, yes, those being the accounts already in place for Alexis, her education, your mother and Katherine Beckett. Are you keeping that one?"

"Dissolve it," Rick instructed. "What's hers is mine, mine is hers, and all that. It doesn't matter anyway. I never got up the courage to even tell her about it. She'd have shot me if I'd ever tried to give her a card with access to a sub-account in her name. Now though," he grinned, "she doesn't have a choice."

"You're really sure about the joint account?"

"For the last time, Howie, yes. Please just set it up."

"Alright." A sigh and then the shuffling of papers as the appropriate document was found. "Both of you will need to sign this and I'll need her banking details, so I can make the appropriate changes."

"What about the investment accounts?" Rick queried. "And the assets?"

Another sigh before a small stack was slipped across the table to him. "Have her sign these too, then. But, just so it's on record, you're giving her the power to destroy you, Rick."

As if she didn't already have that power. She'd had it for years and it had absolutely nothing to do with money.

"Lastly," Jeffrey said, "the updated Will. Everything's just as you asked."

Quickly, Rick sped-read the papers he was passed. A lot stayed the same. An allotment for his mother, Lanie, Ryan and Espo, the Montgomery family and even an amount set aside for Captain Gates and a little note about keeping the Twelfth precinct supplied with good coffee until the funds ran out.

Donations to his favorite charities, the largest sums designated for the NYPD Widows & Orphans Fund, Reach Out & Read and, of course, the Johanna Beckett Trust.

The only changes came with his relationship status. Previously, Alexis would have inherited everything upon his death, but now he had set up much the same arrangement for her as he had for his mother, though it was a substantially larger amount. Also, the apartment in Los Angeles where her mother lived was hers, along with everything that came with the Derrick Storm franchise.

His last Will, updated during the time - the worst three months of his entire life - just after Kate had been shot, had given his partner a very generous sum of cash and all rights and royalties that came with Nikki Heat. Now, the bulk of his estate, including the loft and his Hamptons house, would be hers.

She was going to spit nails when he told her.

"Though, mingling your estates like this, everything would be your new wife's anyway," Jeffrey was saying. "So perhaps we should just put this one in a drawer and the two of you can come back to me together after the wedding."

"No," Castle said. "Let's get this one in place. We'll still come back after the wedding, but if something were to happen to me before then -"

"It's not even two months away, Rick."

"I could get hit by a bus tomorrow."

Or shot, or stabbed, or blown up. Anything could happen. One thing working with Kate had taught him was that death could be, and often was, sudden. His position at her side only increased the risk of an untimely end.

Jeffrey and Howard agreed and left him with the stack of paperwork he and Kate needed to sign off on. As headache inducing as resorting his affairs was, the hard part was going to be getting his wife to go along with it.

He worried about money so that he'd never have to. Kate had a trust her parents had started when she was born, and a portion of her mother's life insurance. It was enough that she was comfortable, but certainly not enough to set her up for life, so Kate worried about money because she had to.

He was determined to make sure she wouldn't anymore, but getting her to agree was going to be a struggle. He was definitely going to have to give her his pathetically-in-love-with-her puppy dog face.

She didn't want his money, he knew with absolute certainty, and wouldn't be pleased taking it. But, when it came to providing for his family, Rick could be even more stubborn than his hardheaded detective.

Leaving the office building, he checked his watch. It was after lunch and he was hungry, but he'd only have time to grab something quick on his way to his next meeting, this one with 'The Harpies' as he affectionately referred to Gina, Paula, and the ever-flamboyant Gary (publisher, agent, and publicist, respectfully) when they were in the same room.

It was always fun to watch, but he really wished he were at the precinct.

He wondered if Kate had eaten, but knew she wouldn't have taken the time to, a habit of hers that was proving hard to break. He also wondered how her physical had gone, if everything was well.

He could send her a text, but he wanted to be subtler in letting her know he was thinking of her.

His driver opened the waiting car's door for him and as he slipped onto the smooth leather, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial.

"Hey, pumpkin."


	5. Chapter 5: The Kid And The Creep

**Chapter Five: The Kid And The Creep**

Any remaining anger that Kate had harbored for the young man who had smashed her lover around the head with a splintering plank of wood evaporated the moment she broke the news.

There was disbelief and argument, but once she'd sat beside him on the cot in the cell he'd been locked in and convinced him she was telling him the truth, Danny Portman curled in on himself, hunched over his own legs, and sobbed.

She'd forgotten, when she'd punched him in the face the day before and tackled him to the ground, forcefully cuffing him, how young he was. Sixteen. Sixteen and being told the most important person in his world was dead.

Younger even than nineteen; not yet even finished high school, still completely reliant on his mother's love and protection. He was just a kid.

Her hand had come to rest on his back without conscious thought, rubbing circles while he grieved, sitting silently but for the occasional, heart-felt, "I'm sorry."

She understood this pain all too well. Kate knew exactly what this boy was going through and it was something akin to living hell.

In her mind, she ruled him out as a suspect. She would have to verify it officially of course, but knowing his reaction intimately, she could tell it was genuine. There was the possibility he had been too high to realize what he had done, but Kate believed that he was genuinely stunned and heartbroken over his mother's death.

"Did -" He wiped his face on his sleeve. "Did that asshole do it?"

Her mind immediately shot to the meeting in Erin's day planner. "Who?"

"Vic," he spat.

"Why would you think that?"

"He's an asshole," the boy repeated. "He yells at her."

"He ever hit her?"

Danny shook his head. "Never seen him do it, but I've seen bruises, marks on her stomach and her arms. I see him scare her sometimes. Gets all up in her face and frightens her. I tried to get between them once and he shoved me."

"Victor has an alibi," Kate told him, but she'd certainly be bringing the man in for another chat.

The boy shrugged. "Don't mean shit. He's a conniving fucker; sure he could get people to lie for him. Probably could even get someone else to kill her for him. He used to be army or something, and he's got buddies. Or he hired someone. His kids got money."

The detective knew he was reaching, searching around for someone, anyone to blame. "He's got children? They live with you?"

"One, Allie. She don't live with us, she's old. She's a real bitch."

Kate made a mental note of the name. "Is there anyone else, Danny? Anyone you could think of that might have wanted to hurt your mom? Maybe … maybe someone from her past?"

That was where she started to lose him. He shifted away from her a bit and turned inward. "No."

"I know that she was in the program, Danny. Both of you would have been, yeah? Why, Danny?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He did, of course. His stiff posture and shuttered eyes easily gave him away. "If someone from her past, from yours, hurt her, I'm going to need your help to find them, Danny."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

From the numbers Ryan had worked out, he would have been about ten when they went into WITSEC and had likely had this stuff drilled into him then. She tried a few more times to get him to open up, but he'd shut down.

With a sigh, Kate stood up. "Alright, Danny. Mr. Castle won't be pressing charges, but you and your friends are still going to have to own up to the drugs we found in your little party lair. You'll likely have a date with a public defender and a judge in juvenile court in a couple of days, but I'll be releasing you shortly."

"And where am I 'sposed to go?" he asked quietly. "Mom's gone and Victor's a cocksucker. Where do I go?"

She wished she had an answer for him.

* * *

Back upstairs Kate was surprised and pleased to find Alexis waiting for her, a large basket on her desk.

"What's this?"

"Dad called," the girl said. "I wasn't far from a coffee shop and so he asked if I could bring you one."

A large paper cup was passed over and warmth bubbled through Kate. Sweet man. And his sweet daughter.

"Thank you, Alexis. And this?" She gestured at the basket on her desk, its contents covered with a large napkin.

The young woman peeled back the covering, smiling brightly. "He said you probably missed lunch."

It was crammed with pastries and baked goods, dozens of them. "How hungry did he think I was?"

"Oh, he told me to just get you a bear claw, but I thought it might be nice to get enough for everyone else, too."

Kate gave her a one-armed hug. "It was, thank you, but you should have just told your father off. I'm sure you've got things to be doing."

"Not really. With school finished for the year and Pi running about a Greenpeace boat, I don't have much going on. I've picked up a few part time jobs, but I don't start the first one for a few more days. I'm going out with a few friends tonight, but I'm free for the afternoon."

She was twisting her hands together, a sure sign that she was nervous about something. Finally, she asked, "Do you think - I was thinking, when we were talking earlier, about asking Doctor Parish if I could come back to work for her for a few days a week over the holidays. Do you think she'd be okay with that?"

"I'm sure she will."

In fact, Kate was sure Lanie would be ecstatic. The doctor adored Alexis and had very much enjoyed their time working together. She'd also be more than a little pleased and proud that Alexis wanted to go back.

"Is this your victim?"

The DMV picture of Erin Portman. "Yes."

"She looks sad."

She did. Years spent running from something, constantly looking over her shoulder, showed on Erin's face.

Alexis was taking in all the information on the board. "Witness protection? Oh, a sordid, unknown past, a mystery within a mystery. Dad must be loving this one."

Kate laughed. "Actually, he doesn't know about any of this yet. This is mostly information we found out today and he's been in meetings."

"Detective Beckett."

Kate spun around, found herself face to face with Officer Hastings who had an unpleasant look on her face. The reason for it was standing stiffly beside her: Inspector Black.

The look in his eyes as he took in Alexis' presence put her on edge. There was just something about this man that set off alarm bells in Kate's head. She wasn't comfortable being near him, and she sure as hell didn't want him anywhere near her stepdaughter.

"Hastings, help Alexis take this to the break room."

She held out the basket of pastries. Alexis shot her a confused look that clearly asked why she needed help; her natural instincts not yet honed enough to really warn her away from the man. Hastings shared a brief look of understanding with Kate and ushered the girl away.

"Inspector Black. I didn't expect to see you so soon. What can I do for you?"

His voice made her itch. Deep and rich, and so very, very cold. "I found out you have Daniel Portman in custody. You'll release him to me."

_Like hell._ "Will I?"

They stared each other down, until Kate decided she didn't have time for the contest and told him, "He assaulted my partner and got caught with drugs; he's being charged for it. He'll be staying here for awhile."

She had no intention of sharing that she'd been prepared to let Danny go very shortly.

"His life may be in danger," Black responded.

"Really?" she mused. "Perhaps if you told me a bit about that, I'd be more understanding of the situation." He didn't respond. "Too bad then," Kate gave. "But don't worry, Inspector. I'm sure he'll be perfectly safe in this precinct."

Because she knew, without a doubt, that if she handed Danny over, at best he'd get lost in the system, shuffled off to another city to be hidden, and she'd never see him again.

"Do you really believe that the people who wanted Erin Portman dead, for whatever it was she knew to get put in protection, would go after her son too?"

There was a long silence, and then, "_If_ they were in WITSEC, what makes you certain, Detective, that it was Erin someone was after?" Just before he turned and left, he finished with, "You'll let me know when he's released."

_No,_ she thought, _I certainly won't._

She met back up with Alexis and Hastings in the break room, finding them chatting easily over muffins and coffee.

"He gone?" the other cop asked when Kate shut the door behind her.

"Yes," she confirmed on a sigh of relief.

Hastings shook her head. "I don't like him."

"Me neither."

Alexis was staring between them bewilderingly. "Is he a suspect?"

Kate shrugged. "Maybe. Just a bad feeling about him."

"He's got the bad eyes. That's what my mom used to say about men that put you off immediately. Don't worry," Hastings assured Alexis with a hand on her arm. "You're what? Twenty? Give it a few years and you'll know what we mean. A man sets off your radar, sends a tingle up your spine - and not the good kind - stay away from him, even if he hasn't done anything to make you suspicious."

"Trust your gut," Kate confirmed. "Woman's intuition isn't a myth. It's your natural instincts trying to protect you."

"I pulled Victor Martin's file," Hastings changed the subject. "He was a marine for twelve years but got medically discharged because of a knee injury. He's worked in security since then. He's got one arrest record; assault. Got in a bar fight and kicked another guys ass. Drunk at the time, but that was seven years ago and there's been nothing since."

"A violent history," Kate mused. "We really need to talk to him again."


	6. Chapter 6: Entwined

**Chapter Six: Entwined**

"Hey!" Rick called from the kitchen as she got in the door from work and Kate had to smile. It never got old, coming home to him every night. "How was your day?"

She dropped her keys and shield in the bowl by the door and slipped out of her heels, flexing her toes as she told him, "We made some progress. Looks like the Portman's aren't really the Portman's. Had a visit from a couple of U.S. Marshal's."

His eyes lit up. "Witness protection? That's so cool."

She ran through the rest of the day with him briefly while throwing her blazer over the back of a stool, updating him on all that they'd found - Espo still hadn't been able to trace that number and the warrant was slow in coming - and mentioned both her frustration at how slow it was going, all the waiting, and her instinctive reaction to Inspector Black.

"He's off, Castle. I'd love to get him an interrogation room and find out exactly what he was doing when Erin Portman was killed, but I don't see that happening without turning this into a departmental pissing contest of epic proportions. Anyway, I think it's more likely that whatever got her killed, if she even was, is related to why she was in protection to start with."

"And the boy?" he questioned, throwing vegetables into a sizzling wok.

"I released him. I wasn't about to call Black and let him know, but I put a car on him. If he really is the witness, I'm not about to risk his safety just because his Marshal gives me the creeps."

"He still wouldn't tell you anything?"

She'd gone to see Danny again after Black had left. "I met Inspector Black," she'd told him.

"Creepy fucker, isn't he?" had been all she'd gotten before he'd shut down again.

"No," she answered Castle.

"How'd your physical go?"

"Everything looks good. How were your meetings?"

"Fine," he answered, stirring a dash of sauce into the pan on the stove. "I played games on my phone while Gina, Paula and Gary fought about who had more control over my life. Paula won, I think. Maybe Gary? Either way, Gina lost. The book will still be released next month, as per Black Pawn's demands, but all the publicity will wait until after we're back from our honeymoon, per mine."

Kate moved through the loft towards his office to lock her gun in the safe and he called after her, "I've got some things for you to sign."

She spent a little time in the bathroom freshening up and when she came back she stepped up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a kiss on the back of his neck. "Hi."

He spun around, swept her up in a hug and kissed her gently. "Hi."

"Smells good," she commented, checking the pan. Chicken and vegetable stir-fry.

"So do you," he murmured into her hair.

When they separated, he motioned towards a stack of paper on the counter and she rounded it and took a seat to read through them. It only took a minute, in which she could feel him shooting her anxious glances, before she realized what was in front of her.

"Castle," she began, her voice as hard as her tensing muscles.

"Just … just sign the papers, Kate, please?"

She flipped through a few pages. "These give me access to everything. They put my name on the loft, the Hamptons … Castle, they put my name on your Ferrari!"

"Of course they do. Well, not everything. There's Alexis' account, and mothers, those are separate and we'd both have to sign to authorize stopping those payments, but everything else, yes. You're my wife, Kate."

He'd been doing that more and more, forgetting, or more likely ignoring, the fact that they weren't actually married yet and calling her his wife.

"Not yet," she corrected for the thousandth time.

He waved it off like he usually did. "Semantics. Point is, what's mine is yours."

"I don't want your money, Castle," she told him firmly, pushing the papers away.

"I know you don't, Kate, but that's not the point. The point is you're my wife, I'm your husband, everything we have is ours now." She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept talking, "If I didn't have anything, we'd combine our assets as if it were nothing. Just because I've got more money than you doesn't mean we should keep everything separate. I don't want to keep _anything_ separate. I want us to share everything as we share our lives."

"Castle," she sighed, "I have no doubt your people advised you against this. You should listen to them. I don't want your money, I just want you."

"Are you going to run off with it all?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what's the problem? Come on, Kate, you've already filled out the papers to change your banking details, you just have to wait until the account is set up to file them, and that form is in there too, by the way. This is just the same."

"Except it gives me access to everything you have, Castle. This isn't what we talked about; this isn't a shared household account, it's everything you own: your property, your books, your investments. Everything, Castle."

"Kate, I'd give you everything I had in a heartbeat. This way, we're sharing it. It's ours." He paused, wearing such a sincere look. "Please, Kate. Sign the papers."

"Castle …"

"Please."

She sighed. Thought hard. He made good points, but she just wasn't comfortable with the idea. He gave her his begging face and damn it, she was going to give in to that, couldn't say no to it. Damn his stupid hangdog look.

"Okay." Another sigh. "Okay, Castle, I'll sign." And, with more than a little reluctance, she did.

When she laid the pen back down, he was smiling broadly. "Congratulations, Kate, you're a millionaire."

She glared at him, then glared at the papers. Him again. He just kept grinning.

"What do you want to do with it?"

She stared, brow furrowing in confusion. "Do with it?"

"Come on, all that money, surely there's something you've always wanted but never been able to afford before. Well, now you can!"

"I'm not spending your money, Castle."

"Our money," he insisted. "It's our money. And I don't want you keeping track of what you spend, making sure you don't go over what you earn. I want it mingled, Kate, so that there is no mine or yours. Just ours."

"Castle," she sighed.

"You're my wife, Kate."

"Not yet," she repeated.

"You're my _wife._ Please don't argue with me about this. I just … it may make me sound stupid, but there's nothing I take greater pleasure from than being able to support my family."

He was so sincere about how much he wanted this that she had to let it go; anything to make him happy - he didn't need to know that she would, in fact, be keeping track of her spending in relation to her income.

So instead of arguing anymore, she stood and sidled around the counter to him, ran a finger down his chest and whispered, "No greater pleasure?"

"Well," he grinned, "perhaps there are a few things …"

"Just a few?"

"Mm."

He kissed her. It was firm, but gentle, and still her entire body sparked from the core out, a fast burn that left her fingertips tingling as they tangled in his hair. His fluttered up under her shirt, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

She'd just parted her lips for him and pressed her hips into his, all the more to feel him come alive against her, when the chicken in the pan spat and cracked. They pulled away from each other.

"Oops," he muttered, reluctantly turning back to the stove. "Not burnt," he told her. "Want me to turn this off, maybe come back to it later?" A suggestive eyebrow dance.

"No," she laughed, then traced her hand down to cup him through his pants, thoroughly enjoying his guttural moan. "Turn _this _off, for now. Food first. You're going to need the sustenance for later, lover."

He pouted, but said, "Yes, dear."

She smacked his arm in response and set about choosing a bottle of wine for them to share.

"So?"

"So what?" she asked, straightening from the cabinet with a Sauvignon Blanc.

"What I asked before? What's the one thing you've wished you could afford, but never could before?"

"Nothing, Castle. Everything I've ever really wanted that cost too much, I've just saved for and gotten. You've seen my coat collection, right?"

"Okay, but what about other things, bigger things? What about a boat? Do you want a boat? Maybe a classic muscle car? What about season tickets to Yankees games for you and your dad?"

"Maybe for his birthday," she mumbled, more engrossed in checking the label of the bottle in her hand.

"Oh! A pony. Did you ever want a pony when you were little? We'll get one."

She laughed. "No boat, no car, Castle. We can get a pony, but you'll be the one walking it and feeding it."

"Come on, Kate. We've got enough money that we'll never have to worry, our kids," her stomach quivered with equal parts pleasure and anxiety at his word, "will never have to worry. We can do a little something with it."

She knew what he wanted, some kind of purchase or gesture to mark the entwining of their estates. He wanted to spend some of his money on something she wanted to prove to her, so she could prove to him, that it was no longer his, but theirs.

"Well," she started, frowning and thinking hard. "You've got that guy making the new phones for us, right? For us and Alexis and Martha and Dad?"

He'd told her about it a while ago, had started thinking seriously about it after Alexis was kidnapped. Inspired by the CIA he wanted to add panic buttons to all of their phones, their family, so that if something ever happened they could hit the button and send out alerts and GPS coordinates to the others. It had taken him a while to find a tech genius that could and would do exactly what it was he wanted (there'd been mumblings of altering base codes and other things that she didn't really follow - apparently the exact specifics of what he wanted went a bit beyond just an app), but last he'd mentioned it, the project was well underway.

"I do," he confirmed, looking at her questioningly.

"It's just, when you first told me you were doing it, I thought …" She bit her lip, completely uncomfortable with this. "Do you think maybe we could have them made up for the team? Ryan, Espo, the captain … maybe Lanie, too?"

He smiled. "I already am, Kate. But maybe we could do it for the entire Twelfth? Or we could have them made up for the entire department, if you wanted."

"No," she said firmly, knowing how far he could run with something once it was in his head. "That's … I like it, Castle, but it's just too much. But maybe if it works out for the team, the NYPD will think about doing it for everyone, within _their _budget."

"It's a great idea, Kate."

"One you already had."

"The whole Twelfth, then?"

"Castle …"

"Your family, Kate. The Twelfth is your family. Besides, it'll be a much better trial run, if it's for the whole precinct. Our team aren't the only one's who get into trouble a little too often. If it helps, if it saves someone's life, we can put it to the bigwigs at One PP."

She had thought of it before, but it just seemed like too much. She gave him a smile that she knew told him just how much she loved him. "Thanks, Castle."

He put down his bamboo spoon and reached over the counter to take her hand. "Kate, that's the point I'm trying to make. You don't have to thank me. I'm not doing this, we are."

Together, like always. It warmed her just as much as their kiss had before. She shot another look towards the papers, then around the loft where her things sat side by side with his. He was right. They weren't married yet, but … they kind of were now, their lives completely entwined.

What's his wasn't hers, what's hers wasn't his. It was just … theirs.

* * *

There wasn't a single moment of their very first night together that Kate didn't remember. Even the parts where her mind had turned to jelly right along with her body were imprinted in her memory.

If she brought it to mind and closed her eyes she was still able taste his scotch and her rain as their tongues mingled; she would still grow warm and wet at the memory of his fingers, exploring, learning, _pleasing _her body for the first time; she would still tremble with the remembrance of that first slide of his full length inside of her.

They'd barely made it to the bed before they were fucking, four years of built up desire exploding in a wave that just would not wait, refused to take it slow.

After, they'd talked in quiet whispers and then he'd made love to her with so much feeling that she'd cried into his neck, so very in love with him, so very relieved that she was there, with his naked body pressed against and inside of hers, happy and alive.

Then they'd slept, but just before dawn, Kate had been woken by the edge of an orgasm and had opened her eyes to find Castle's head between her thighs, his lovely mouth making her fall on a scream.

It was then that she'd realized that his mouth was her favorite part of his entire body. She'd loved it before, how it formed his beautiful words, released his sexy, rumbling voice, but as he'd kissed and licked and sucked her into a blubbering, shuddering mess that could barely bring to mind her own name, she'd decided that of all his wonderful parts, it was the best.

And right now, he was making damn good use of it. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugged. _So close, so close. _

"Castle," she gasped, warning him, begging him, urging him on.

Through the haze over her vision she looked down, able to see his grinning eyes as they watched her lose her mind, her ability to think or speak or breathe. And then he winked and _went to fucking town. _

From his place between her legs, he worked her body like the maestro he'd become with it, ruthlessly keeping her perched right on the edge until she was swearing and moaning and babbling streams of words that didn't make sense even to her.

It was only when he decided that she could come that she did. Two fingers curled inside of her at the same moment he sucked hard and flicked his lovely tongue and she was gone, cresting and breaking, unable, unwilling, to hold back the cry that tore from her throat.

Her entire body was trembling, her breathing was harsh and her ears were ringing. When the grey fuzz that had encroached her eyesight faded, he had his chin resting on her belly, looking up at her with a smug grin.

"You don't even hear that, do you?" he chuckled.

"Hm?"

He laughed and moved, reaching over to the bedside before coming back to hover above her, waving her phone in front of her face. Oh. Not her ears that were ringing then.

Esposito's name and surly face were on the screen and Kate, not comfortable with even the picture of him staring at her in her current condition snatched the phone from her lover's hand.

"Beckett," she snapped.

"_Whoa,_" Espo said. "_I wake you up?_"

"What do you want, Javi?"

Castle traced his fingers down the scar that lined her ribs, spanned them over her hip, and then trailed them further, further down, exploring her thigh with electric little touches until they stopped at her knee.

"What?" she asked.

Esposito paused a second, repeated, "_I said that I got a call from the uniforms you put on Danny Portman. There's been an incident._"

The knee was lifted, crooked over the bend in his arm and pushed up and back. It came to rest on her shoulder and her breath was hitching again.

"What kind of incident?"

"_Seemed the kid was going to stay at his friends place, but then snuck out a little while ago. Uni's followed him back to the apartment. He went upstairs and they let him go, not knowing what he was planning._"

She had to bite her lip so hard it nearly bled so that she didn't cry out when Castle pushed, torturously slowly, inside of her, inch by hard, thick inch.

A hitched breath before she managed, "What was he planning?"

There must have been a recognizable waver in her words and really, she wished Ryan had called instead because he wouldn't have picked up on it. Espo, once, long ago, had _known_ Kate's sex voice.

"_Oh, no! No way! Beckett_!" A distinctive disgusted whine in the detective's voice. "_No fucking way are you and Castle getting your freak on when you're on the phone to me!_"

She'd have denied it, except they totally were and she'd never been able to lie to Esposito convincingly.

Deep, steady strokes were driving her higher and higher. Pulling back until only the head of his cock kept her open, followed by a slow, firm thrust that filled her so completely. Over and over until a warm tingle was coiling in the pit of her belly and the tips of her toes were burning. Castle would get his ear twisted for it later, but for now even she knew how loudly she was vibing _don't you dare fucking stop._

"Espo!" she barked. "Just tell me what happened!"

A long sigh. "_Danny beat the shit out of Victor Martin. The dude's been rushed to the emergency room and Danny's back in the station in cuffs._"

Fuck.

Castle shifted just slightly and gave her a particularly hard thrust at exactly the right angle.

_Fuck._ She bit her lip, hard, so she didn't scream in Espo's ear.

"I'll be there soon," she told both partners, giving the same, but two very different answers.

The last thing she heard before the call was disconnected and the phone tossed away was, "_Tell Castle he's paying my therapy bills._"

And then she was clutching at powerful forearms and meeting him stroke for stroke. "Faster," she gasped. "Gotta' get to the precinct."

He complied, speeding up the movement of his hips into hers and leaning down to kiss her. It was hard and sloppy, his tongue licking soothingly over her abused bottom lip and then sweeping through her mouth.

He grunted and dropped from his hands down to his elbows. The angle changed and Kate lost the ability to breathe as he kept her leg pressed against her torso with his body, holding himself up as high as he could with his right arm and shifting just enough to allow his left hand in between them.

His skilled fingers found her clit and circled just once to drop her into an intense orgasm, the kind that left her head full and pounding. She clenched around him, arched up into him and let loose a string of, "_Fuck_, fuck. Yes, Rick, _yes!_"

He swallowed the long, joyous cry of release that followed with his fantastic mouth.


	7. Chapter 7: The Broken Boy

**Chapter Seven: The Broken Boy**

Esposito glared at them both with disgust written all over his face when they arrived at the precinct and kept doing so all the way through an update.

"Martin's gonna' be fine. Split lip, black eye. Worst of it's a cracked rib. Concussion was what sent him to the hospital. He was a bit out of it when the bus got there. He'll be sore as hell for a few days, but he'll live. Kid's in interrogation."

She went in alone. Danny, both eyes now bruised - the new mark matching the one Kate herself had given him when she'd popped him in the nose and dropped him after he'd attacked Castle - and both glazed and skittering about, swung to face her. He had his fingers clenched in his hair, pulling at it painfully.

"It was self-defense!" he told her as soon as she closed the door.

"Sit down, Danny."

"That fucker hit me first," he continued. "And so I just lost it on him. He deserved it! He's been hurting my mom. He killed her!"

She crossed to his side, put a hand on his shoulder and tried to steer him into the chair. "Danny, just sit down and we'll talk."

"He killed her!" he repeated, hysterical. "She's dead!" He stared wide-eyed at Beckett and she watched his heart break all over his face. "She's dead. She's dead." He started crying and, to her surprise, leaned in to do it against her shoulder.

"She's gone," he rasped and it hurt to hear it. "What'm I gonna' do? What'm I gonna' do without her?"

The words were a painful echo of her own, years and years before and though she'd frozen for a long, uncertain moment when he'd started sobbing on her, the tragic understanding she had for his grief moved her to lift her arms around him.

"She's gone."

"I know."

* * *

"Coffee?" Castle offered as soon as she walked out.

"Yeah," she agreed on a sigh.

In the break room, he set about making it for her, his mind not entirely on the task as he kept shooting her worried looks. She was drained and it showed with her slumped shoulders and the way she rubbed at her temples.

"It sunk in," she told him. "When you cry when you're first told, it's more a response to the shock. It hurts, but it's still not quite real then. That, what you just saw …"

"It sunk in," he repeated.

She nodded. "It takes a little while, but once it does it's so much worse."

Any idiot would be able to recognize how Beckett identified with the boy. She hadn't gotten Danny talking yet, but she'd calmed him somewhat, gotten him in the seat and was now giving him a little time to come back to himself.

"Can you make one for him too?" she requested.

"I've got a better idea," Rick told her, opening the cupboard and searching. He grabbed the tin out and held it up with a triumphant smile. "This might make him feel a bit better than caffeine would."

"Hot chocolate." She smiled warmly at him, gratitude in her eyes. "Yeah, Castle."

"What's next?" he asked, finishing up her coffee and passing it over before setting about to make Danny's drink.

She wrapped her hands around the mug like she was drawing warmth from it. "He'll be numb for a while. The pain just gets to be too much after you truly realize what you've lost, you shut down to it. There'll be a while when he just … wanders around blankly."

The voice of experience. He ached for her. "You think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know, Castle. I just … don't know."

"You were."

"I wasn't, for a long time."

"But you came out of it eventually. Stronger. Maybe he will too."

"I hope so."

He gave her a gentle smile. "You like him?"

She shook her head. "He's a drug addicted kid who thinks he's hard core. He just beat up his step father, and he knocked you on your ass."

"You like him."

"I sympathize with him, Castle. I know where he's coming from, all the anger, needing someone to blame. And he's just a kid. He's sixteen, a child, and his whole world will never be the same. I … I understand him, is all."

He let her have that because it was true, but there had been something wonderfully maternal in the way Beckett had held Danny. Castle had filled with the sight of it. She was going to be an amazing mother. He couldn't wait to watch that side of her grow and develop with their child.

Shit. _Their child._ He'd never get over that thought. They were going to have kids together one day. His wife was going to carry his children. Kate Beckett. His wife. He couldn't remember a time when he was happier with the state of his life.

"Come on," she said, rising from her place leaning against the table. "Let's take him his hot chocolate."

They entered the interrogation room together. Danny sat at the table, his head in his hands. A pale, tear-streaked face looked up at them when they entered, eyes wide and red. Yeah, okay, despite the lump on his temple, Castle sympathized with the boy too.

"This is Mr. Castle, Danny, my partner. I don't know if you remember him."

Eyes shot to the bruise on the older man's temple and Danny winced. "Yeah … yeah, kind of. I … I'm really sorry, man."

"It's okay," Castle assured. "But maybe, you should remember it the next time you hit the drugs?" He placed the cup in front of him. "Here."

"Thanks," softly whispered.

"Are you ready to answer some of my questions now, Danny?"

He looked worn and, like Beckett had said, a little numb to the situation. "Yes," he told her, not much inflection in his voice. "Anything you want."

She'd gotten to him. She always did get to the people sitting across the table from her, that being her forte, but it was rare she did so with such warmth and tenderness and, hot as badass, hardcore, scary as hell Detective Beckett was, Castle liked the change up.

"Let's start with tonight. You said it was in self-defense. What happened, Danny? I was told you were staying with a friend. Why'd you leave?"

"I wanted to go home," he mumbled. "Wanted to make sure, you know?"

"Yeah," she told him. "You wanted to make sure she wasn't there, make sure this wasn't all a big mistake. I know."

"It wasn't. She wasn't there." Blank, no emotion in it, until a flash of anger. "But he was."

"What happened?"

"He was drunk. We argued. I don't really remember what was said, just, it was loud and then he swung at me." He briefly touched his blackening eye. "He hit me. And I just … I lost my shit. I didn't mean to hurt him so bad." Anguished eyes looked up at Beckett. "Will he be okay?"

"Yes," she assured. "Just a cracked rib, a few scrapes and bruises, but he'll be fine."

"Good," he breathed and then shrugged. "Don't really matter though. Doubt I'll be going home again."

There was a long silence. Beckett broke it. "I'm sorry I have to ask you this, Danny, but where were you yesterday between nine in the morning and one in the afternoon?"

His gaze had gone flat again. "That when she died?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I hoofed it early that morning, before either of 'em were awake, went to my girl's place. Her parents had left late the night before for a couple of days at some conference, so we … well, you know. Then I went to a friends place. I … I got high."

"And you don't remember where you were? What you did?"

He shook his head. "No. It was good stuff. I checked out. Came to in a cell. Everything's pretty vague before that." Another look at the mark on Castle's head, then he turned back to Beckett. "You think … did I -? Was it me?"

"I don't know," she told him honestly and then said, not threatening but rather that the result would put the boy's mind at ease, "But I'll find out. What's your friends name?"

"Jake. Jake Livingstone. He's the one I was staying with tonight. His folks are cool, don't mind having me for a bit."

"And your girlfriend?"

"Fiona Burr." A haze of panic. "Please don't let her parents know. They'd kill her if they knew she was having sex with me."

Beckett didn't agree to his plea, one way or the other. She moved on. "Let's go back a bit further, Danny. Tell me about witness protection. What happened?"

"I'm not supposed to say anything."

"I know, but it might help me find out who hurt your mom."

Danny shook his head. "He couldn't have hurt her. He's in jail now."

"Who, Danny?"

The boy sucked in a deep breath, let it out in a rush when he answered, "My dad."

* * *

The story unfolded.

Danny Portman, Daniel Lane back then, had grown up in Nevada. He remembered that when he was little, his mom was high a lot and his dad was a cool guy who sometimes took him for rides on his bike. He wasn't around a lot, but he wasn't absent either.

He found out later his dad was a one-percenter, a member of an outlaw motorcycle club. Craig Lane of the Las Vegas chapter of the Pagan's, or Pug, as he was colloquially known.

One day when Danny was ten his dad had picked him up from school and taken him for a ride. They'd gotten a pizza and leaned against someone else's car in a parking lot to eat it.

An old car with loud music playing had pulled into the parking lot. A big man who looked like Hawaiians Danny had seen in movies, with a blue bandana hanging out of his back pocket, got out and, not noticing them, walked away.

"Stay here," Danny's dad had told him.

Every single day for years after Danny would wish that he had listened. He'd gotten impatient only a minute after his dad had left and followed.

Behind the pizza place, he'd found his dad. He had a gun pointed at the other man. He fired it.

Danny ran. He ran and ran and ran until he was lost and then he curled up against a wall and cried and cried. Hours later, he was found by a patrolman and taken to the nearest precinct.

When they'd realized who he was, who his father was, the cops had put two and two together and connected the boy, and his criminal dad, to the murder of an infamous member of a prominent street gang earlier that day.

They'd gotten the child to tell them what he knew. He'd become a witness in his own father's murder trial, and part of a larger effort to do some damage to the organized crime network in Vegas.

The Marshal's were contacted, WITSEC was sorted and he and his mother were whisked away to their new lives in New York City.

Everything had been okay, mostly, until Danny's mother had died.

Sixteen years old, Castle mused. His father in jail, a murderer; his mother, dead, likely a murder victim.

But, Castle reminded himself, there was still the chance that it was the kid himself, high as a kite, who had killed the woman.


End file.
